Authors: Hilari Bell
“You’re an unusual sort of priest,” he began cautiously.
“I came to it late.” She moved easily in the cluttered room, gathering cups and a wicker tea sieve. “The chooser missed me when I was first tested—said my ‘holiness’ was insufficient. When I grew up, I became an herb-healer—a good one. So good that the village priest began to wonder. He had them out to test me again and behold! My holiness turned
out to be sufficient after all, and they whisked me into the priesthood. By that time I was over thirty and set in my ways. They were a bit miffed that when I got my robe, I just set up as an herb-healer again. But they’ve found me useful over the years. No one likes going to kill-or-cure Kerratis.”
The jar she took the leaves from was labeled “ambermint,” and the familiar scent spread through the room as she poured boiling water over the sieve. Jeriah began to relax.
“Why didn’t you raise the alarm when you found me in your cabinet?”
“Oh, I knew you were there. I’d noticed you weren’t at the prayer and wondered a bit. When I saw your tunic sticking out of the door, I decided it was time we had a talk.”
She handed him the steaming tea. This woman had noticed his absence at prayer and been alert enough to spot his hiding place. She’d taken some trouble to save him…and she wouldn’t tell him why.
Jeriah set the tea down, untasted.
There was a moment of silence while she studied him; then she sighed. “All right. Todder Yon asked me to look after you. And give you a hearing, if I would. This seemed a good chance.”
“Todder Yon?” Astonishment rang through Jeriah’s body. “Then you’re…You can’t be one of the Lesser Ones! You’re a priest!”
“I was an herb-healer before I became a priest. Old loyalties don’t vanish just because you gain new ones. The Decree
of Bright Magic only came about seven years ago.”
“But…” Lesser One. Right in the heart of the palace for seven years. As a priest her magic would be legal. She didn’t have to help the Lesser Ones. And if the priests caught her, she’d be tried as a traitor.
“If you’ve talked to Todder Yon…Did he tell you what I need?”
“Aye. We’re old friends, Todder and I. He tells me most things. But I’ll not be able to help you.”
Jeriah’s heart plummeted. “Why not? Makenna was only a hedgewitch, and she cast a gate. If I got the spell for you…”
She was shaking her head. “Lad, in order to create that gate, Makenna drained a power sink that held the magic of more than a hundred priests. Casting even a small gate would take several powerful priests—who knew what they were doing! Using lesser wielders it’d take a dozen or more. We’d be bound to get caught gathering that many, and Master Lazur’s always watching for some clue as to who we are.”
“Master Lazur doesn’t really care about the Lesser Ones. As long as you don’t challenge…” Jeriah’s breath caught. He stared at the plump graying woman with the soft peasant accent. Everybody’s grandmother.
“You were one of the conspirators,” he whispered. “They didn’t catch them all.”
“No.” Her voice was lower too, and held grief as well as caution. “They didn’t catch all of
us
.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jeriah demanded. “If you’d come to me when I first arrived—”
“When you first came to this palace, you’d been working as Timeon Lazur’s assistant,” said Chardane. “All of the conspirators they caught were hanged…except you, Jeriah Rovan.”
“Only because Tobin took my place. And the only reason he didn’t hang was because Father paid off the tribunal.”
“Others tried to bribe the tribunal,” Chardane told him. “They failed. What made your family so special?”
Jeriah frowned. “Nothing. I wasn’t in very deep, and the others confirmed that. And Tobin was my father’s heir…”
Other landholders’ heirs had been executed. He stared at Chardane in baffled silence.
She shrugged. “Todder Yon gave his word for you, and he’s a fair judge of men. I’ve been watching you myself these last weeks, close enough to know you’re not working for Master Lazur anymore, so I decided to take a chance. I only hope I’ve not made a mistake that’ll get me hanged!”
“You haven’t,” Jeriah assured her. “I’m sorry the conspiracy failed, and I still believe reforms are needed. But Master Lazur’s right when he says we have to complete the relocation before we reform the laws.”
Chardane snorted. “He’s likely right about the relocation—I believe he’s wrong about the laws. But there’s no use arguing about it. There’s not enough of our folk left to do anything but hide for our lives, and hope to try again
someday. So I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“But Tobin has to get out of the Otherworld! He could be getting sick right now—in a few weeks he’ll die! Surely you could gather enough people to cast the gate spell?”
“Not without getting caught. Timeon Lazur has spies from one end of the Realm to the other; that’s the source of most of his power. I’m sorry, for you and for your brother, but the answer is no.”
“Isn’t there some way I can change that?” Jeriah asked desperately. “There has to be something.”
“You could overthrow Timeon Lazur’s cadre, so we wouldn’t be at risk anymore.”
“But that’s
impossible
.”
“I know. That cadre’s power goes so deep, it’d take a team of horses to uproot it. That’s why the answer’s no.”
“Wait—is Master Zachiros part of the conspiracy?”
“There is no conspiracy anymore. But no. Zachiros serves the Sunlord and the Realm, and he doesn’t get involved in who controls the council. Which is likely why he’s lasted so long.”
“But…”
“Give it up, lad. The council’s under Lazur’s thumb now—his enemies daren’t stir. Even if I was willing to risk my own life, others would be endangered if they got their hands on me. I know too many names.”
She rose abruptly, went to her shelves, and began shaking herbs into a folded paper.
There had to be a way to make her help him. Jeriah was certain she could find the people he needed to cast the gate. But what she’d said about getting caught was true. Tobin would be appalled if saving him cost dozens—hundreds?—of conspirators’ and hedgewitches’ lives.
He remembered his conversation with Koryn. “Is there any chance that you, the Lesser Ones, could find some way to help defeat the barbarians’ magic? If we could somehow make the relocation unnecessary, then maybe we could convince Master Lazur…”
Chardane was already shaking her head. “Lad, letting that girl convince you of anything is the biggest mistake you could make. If she suspects you’re working against the relocation in any way, she’ll have your hide for belt and boots! She’s obsessed, and she’s no fool—and that’s a dangerous combination.”
“How come you know her so well?” Jeriah asked. “I didn’t think she had any friends, except maybe Master Lazur.”
“I helped treat her when she first got here,” Chardane said. “They’d already set her leg, but I brewed something for the pain and a mild soother for when she had nightmares. She stopped taking both of them before I thought she should, but she’s a strong girl. She’d be dead if she wasn’t.”
“Will she always be lame?” Jeriah asked. “Or will her leg eventually heal?”
He knew she’d always have nightmares.
“I don’t know,” Chardane told him. “Her bones are as
straight as healing magic can make them, but soft tissue can go on mending for a long time after an injury that severe. She’ll always limp, but the pain may lessen. Most pain lessens. Eventually. But the reason she’s attached herself to Master Lazur is because she believes the relocation is the best way to prevent what happened to her family from happening to the whole Realm. I don’t think there’s anything she wouldn’t do to help the relocation along. Or anything she wouldn’t do to prevent someone she thought was trying to stop it. So you stay away from Mistress Koryn. Right?”
“I will,” Jeriah promised. No matter how much he admired what she’d done, Koryn was his enemy.
“Here’s a packet of headache tea.” Chardane handed him the folded paper. “It’s a good excuse for being about so late, if anyone stops you on the way to your room.”
“What time is it?”
“About an hour before midnight.”
Jeriah could smuggle the keys back to Master Zachiros’ desk, but it was too late to give the Hierarch his medicine—going there now, so long after the palace gates had closed, would surely make the guards suspicious. If the shutters hadn’t been latched, there was a tree outside the Hierarch’s bedroom window Jeriah could have climbed—probably the same tree from which Daroo had observed “that poor old man.” But the nights were still too cool for open windows, and there was no other way into the Hierarch’s room that
wouldn’t take him past the guards. Skipping a dose hadn’t seemed to hurt the Hierarch last time.
“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”
“I’m sorry, but no. If there was some way to help that wouldn’t put me in danger, I might try. But Timeon Lazur’s too sharp. I don’t dare make a move as long as he has power.”
She hustled Jeriah gently out of the herbery and closed the door.
“S
HOULDN’T WE START BUILDING AGAIN
?” Miggy fretted. “We’ve been here four days.”
“Harcu hasn’t found any good rock,” Makenna told him. The Stoner also hadn’t been able to tell her what was wrong with it. Makenna didn’t think he really knew himself—but he was certain it wasn’t right, and that was enough for her. “I want to wait for the scouting party’s report before we settle in for good,” she added.
It surprised her how much she missed Tobin’s presence. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t manage without him—as she always had! It was just…things were easier, calmer, when he was there.
“They won’t find anything,” said Miggy. “We lost two months of labor at the old village. If we’re to get even one crop out of the summer, the Greeners need to get their seed in.”
“I know. But if we have to leave this site too, I don’t want them wasting any more seed, and the rest of us more effort.”
Besides, the wait was giving her time to study the priest’s stolen spell books. Makenna thought she might actually have figured out how to cast a gate—if anyone had enough magic left to cast it.
Miggy sighed. “That’s what the Greeners and the others are thinking as well. I’m just afraid that in trying to save seed and effort, we may be wasting too much time.”
Makenna feared it too. Even in this strange new world, the signs of summer settling in were all too plain. And without their growing magic, the Greeners’ crops couldn’t be hastened. Still…
“We’ll wait for Tobin to come back.”
J
ERIAH RUSHED UP THE CENTRAL
stairs, shivering in the predawn chill. If they discovered he’d failed to give the Hierarch his medicine a second time, he’d probably be dismissed! Though even if the goblins found the spell notes, he still had no one to open a gate! Tobin could be ill by now—but Jeriah trusted his brother to hang on to life until he got there. There had to be a way. He’d found one of the Lesser Ones—that was a step forward, right? One step at a time. But to help the goblins search for the spell notes, and to persuade Chardane, he had to be here, and if they learned he hadn’t given the Hierarch his medicine…
He was running when he reached the Hierarch’s door and he wasn’t even late.
Slow down. They’ll be suspicious if you race in panicking
.
When his breathing had slowed he went in, smiling at the Hierarch as if nothing could possibly be wrong.
The Hierarch smiled back. “Jeriah!”
“Yes, my lord. Good morning.” In spite of his worries, he
was pleased. Perhaps this time the old man would remember for more than a day. The menservants smiled at him too.
Helping the Sunlord into his robes, Jeriah expected one of them to ask about the medicine any minute. Perhaps he should lie, say that he’d come in later and…No, the guards would know he hadn’t. Better to confess as soon as he was accused. Perhaps they’d only set him to scrubbing the steps for a year. He’d scrub them forever if they’d let him stay. Though if Chardane refused to help…
Jeriah barely heard the morning prayer. Was being in charge always like this? An endless succession of defeats and insoluble problems? The knights of legend never banged their heads against the wall and howled, but that was what Jeriah felt like doing.
After the Hierarch had disrobed and dressed, they ate breakfast. Mohri asked Jeriah how his business had gone. Jeriah said fine and added that Master Lazur would be pleased. He suppressed a desire to babble, waiting tensely for the next question—it never came. Gradually Jeriah realized that they all assumed he’d done what he’d promised and given the Hierarch his medicine later. They weren’t going to question the guards, or mention it to anyone. They trusted him.
A stab of guilt poisoned his relief, but the Hierarch seemed no worse this morning.
During the petitioning Jeriah tried to thrust his problems out of his mind. It took all his self-control to keep from
looking guilty when Master Zachiros remarked that the Hierarch seemed to be having one of his good days.
When the Hierarch lay down for his afternoon rest, Jeriah tackled the next problem: How could he tell the goblins that he had the amulets? He hadn’t thought to set up a method to contact them, so all he could think of was to make himself available and hope they approached him. Daroo had first done so in the woods near the barracks, so Jeriah set off for the stables to visit Glory and take Fiddle out for a ride. Being around horses might soothe his fraying nerves. But what if the goblins didn’t contact him? Then what?
Jeriah thumped his head gently against a nearby tree, moaning with frustration. No wonder knights in the stories did everything themselves—trying to organize helpers drove you mad!
Fiddle seemed pleased to see him, and he felt guilty again for neglecting Tobin’s horse. Jeriah rode around the lake, problems spinning through his mind: the spell notes, the gate—the days were racing by. Once Tobin began to sicken, there was no way to know how long he might survive.
No goblins popped out of the trees. No contact. And every day counted now!
Jeriah unsaddled Fiddle and began to curry him, trying to come up with some way to let the goblins know that he’d gotten their cursed amulets and was—
“Congratulations, hero. Why’d the lady priest lock you up in that cupboard?”
Jeriah jumped and swore, and Fiddle gazed curiously at him. Cogswhallop was perched on a corner of the manger.
“That’s none of your business. Were you watching me last night? Wait a minute. If you were watching, why didn’t you let me out? I was in agony in there! I could have been caught!”
The goblin grinned. “The trade is amulets for the search—we charge more for a rescue. Though if you’re interested, we might—”
“No,” said Jeriah hastily. “I’ll rescue myself. You know I’ve got the amulets—are you ready to start tonight? I don’t want you running around in…What are you doing here in broad daylight? If you get caught—”
“Keep your voice down and I won’t be. Don’t worry so much. There’s enough cover on this tier to conceal a goblin village. That palace is another matter—we did some exploring last night. We’ll be safe enough once folk have gone to bed, but during the day it’d be risky.”
“Don’t even think about going there during the day,” Jeriah told him. “It’d be suicide. You can’t—”
“Then we’re in agreement, and if you’d stop yammering and arrange a time to hand over the amulets, we could begin the search tonight. Any particular place we should start?”
“The library.” Jeriah explained his reasoning, and Cogswhallop nodded.
“Makes as much sense as anywhere else. Bring the amulets to the terrace in front of the library door. When will you be there?”
Jeriah had lost control of this conversation, but the goblin’s plan was sound. “I’ll meet you around midnight. Everyone should be asleep by then, and—”
The stable door opened and a groom backed in, pulling a wheelbarrow over the sill.
Jeriah whispered, “You’d better get…” But when he turned back to the manger, the goblin was gone.
Jeriah crept around the third-level terrace, carrying the sack of amulets and thanking St. Cerwyn that the sunsguard was posted by the steps, on the other side of the palace from the library. He wondered how the goblins were getting in and out, but he had no doubt they’d manage. If they were vermin, at least they were
competent
vermin. And this time the Hierarch had been given his medicine and put to bed, just as he should be. So why was Jeriah so nervous?
The waxing moon shed enough light to see where he was going. The amulets jingled if he moved too fast, forcing him to creep along instead of rushing like a fool. Like he wanted to.
He reached the library doors. The fountains were shut off at night. The metallic rattle as he set down the sack sounded clearly in the stillness.
For once Jeriah didn’t jump when dark forms crept from the bushes. Most of them hovered in the shadows—a dozen, perhaps—but Cogswhallop and Daroo approached him.
Daroo was grinning. “I brought them, just like you asked.
We’ll have those notes right soon. If they’re in the palace, that is.”
If they’re in the palace.
But Jeriah couldn’t help smiling back. “I brought my half of the trade, too.”
Cogswhallop gestured, and a couple of goblins darted out to seize the sack and bear it off.
“You’re not going to count, to be sure there’s at least fifty?”
“I’ll trust you that far. Besides, fifty’d make a smaller bag.”
Daroo snorted, and a murmur of amusement rippled out of the shadows.
“We’ll get our own back if you cheat us.” The words were threatening, but Cogswhallop’s voice was neutral, almost approving. Perhaps he thought Jeriah was becoming “civilized.”
With some surprise, Jeriah realized that he had no doubts about the goblins keeping their part of the bargain. It wasn’t particularly honorable to demand payment for everything, but once you paid them, they’d do the job.
“So let’s get on with it.” He gestured to the library door.
“If someone’s fallen asleep over a book in there, it’d be better if you opened it. You can make excuses—we can’t.”
Jeriah glanced at the dark windows; that possibility hadn’t occurred to him. He tried to turn the handle, but it didn’t budge.
“It’s locked!” He shook the handle furiously. “I hope you
can pick it, because I sneaked Master Zachiros’ keys back into his desk last night.”
“Keep your voice down. I’ll handle the locks. And if it’s locked, it’s likely empty.” Cogswhallop drew a slim probe from some inner pocket and inserted it into the keyhole—he had to stand on tiptoe to reach it. Jeriah heard him murmuring—magic? curses? senility? He couldn’t make out the words.
A familiar tug at his britches drew his eyes down.
“While you and Fa and the Bookeries do this, the rest of us are going to give some other rooms a proper search. I know the palace best, so I’m in charge of that.”
Jeriah winced, but Daroo looked so proud, he couldn’t bring himself to spoil it. “Good luck.” He fought down the impulse to add,
You’ll need it
.
“Ha!” Cogswhallop’s grin flashed and he eased the door open. Jeriah suddenly understood why the goblin had wanted him there—if he hadn’t been present, from inside the library it would look like the door was opening by itself. Which might make someone look down.
Daroo darted away. The rest of the goblins streamed into the library, and Jeriah followed. They’d obviously planned this, for they split into two groups and began tacking sheepskins over the windows. The scent of ink and paper was sharper in the dark.
“Won’t someone notice that the windows are covered?”
“They’d be more likely to notice a light. Not even Bookeries
can read in the dark, young hero.”
“We shouldn’t be working at night at all,” said a prim voice. The room grew darker as the windows were covered, but the light from the open door enabled Jeriah to see the plump shadow approaching Cogswhallop. “I’ve always objected to this whole mad venture. And it’s not as if he’s trading us information. Shiny stones and buttons! That’s—”
“That’s a sight more useful than a bunch of scribbling,” Cogswhallop snapped. “Hero, this fool is Master Hispontic. He’s the Bookeries’ leader—”
“High scholar,” the shadow corrected.
“—who led them right into catastrophe, trying to save their books when they should have been saving themselves!” Cogswhallop finished.
“Information,” hissed the shadow, “is what will save us all in the long run, not your mad schemes. It’s your kind’s short-term thinking that—”
Jeriah wondered what scheme the Bookerie was talking about. He wished he could let them go on quarreling, but their voices were beginning to rise.
“There’s lots of information in here,” Jeriah interrupted softly. “You can’t take the books away, of course, but you’re welcome to read—”
“No!” Cogswhallop howled in a whisper.
“Read them,” Jeriah finished, baffled.
“Ready,” a voice whispered from the darkness.
Cogswhallop moaned and shut the door, and light sprang
from half a dozen lamps. Jeriah blinked down at a bespectacled goblin with a neat beard and ink-stained fingers. The gratification in his round face outshone the lamps.
“Thank you, sir. We’re in your debt. Gentlemen”—his voice lifted in triumph—“we have
full permission
!”
Gasps of astonished joy came from a dozen throats, and the goblins darted for the bookshelves.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Cogswhallop through gritted teeth. He stalked to the nearest goblin, grabbed his collar, and spun him face-to-face.
“You’re looking for Lazur’s spell notes
first
, understand? We’ve got a bargain, and you’re not to read another thing till it’s fulfilled!”
His captive’s eyes were straying over Cogswhallop’s shoulder to the shelves. Cogswhallop shook him. “Understand?”
“Oh, aye, aye. Lazur’s notes on the Other…Is that…It is! Marcabus’ treatise on the forming of rock!” He pulled free of Cogswhallop’s grip and shot back to the books like iron to a magnet.
Cogswhallop sighed. “It’s the best I can do. You shouldn’t have given them permission, hero—they’d have been bad enough without it.”
Watching the Bookeries scramble nimbly up the shelves as if they were goblin ladders, Jeriah remembered Koryn perched so carefully on her stool denying the notes were there. Of course, she’d have denied it whether they were there or not. If they were there, would she have reported that
conversation to Master Lazur? And would he have moved them? Or would she think Jeriah believed her, and decide that the spell notes were even safer in the library? Not that Jeriah could have found them—that would take a small army of scholars, which was precisely what he now had.
“As long as they find the spell notes first, I don’t care if they read every book in the place,” said Jeriah. “They will find the notes first, won’t they?”
“Maybe, but…Oh, don’t look so panicked. I’ll keep ’em in line. Is there another way out of here?”
Jeriah led him across the shadowed room. “What did you trade the Bookeries for this?” Master Hispontic’s comments about mad schemes had made him curious.
“None of your business.” A haunted look flickered across the goblin’s sharp face. “Where does that door go?”
“An inner corridor to some offices. There won’t be anyone in them now.” Jeriah opened the door and peered through. “Empty, just as I said.”
The few corridor lamps that burned all night were turned low, creating pools of soft light every twenty steps. You could walk without running into anything, but there was plenty of shadow.
“This corridor ends in the record room,” Jeriah murmured. “No one’s likely to be there this late.”
“We’ll still post a watcher. Pity the Flichters won’t do it, but they didn’t…The gen’ral’s the only one who could ever get sense out of them. This isn’t bad—if someone comes to
one door, we can scoot out the other.”
The goblin wasn’t telling him everything, but that was nothing new. They’d do their best to find the spell notes. That was what mattered.
“Suppose someone comes down the corridor?” Jeriah asked. “And someone comes to the library door at the same time.”
“Then we hide.”
“What if they see you?”
“Then we run,” said Cogswhallop impatiently. “You’re jumping about like your fleas had declared war. Don’t be so nervous,
hero
. This is easy.”
“You think that now,” said Jeriah. “I’ve been breaking into places ever since I got here, and I’ve been caught every time.”
“We won’t be. Go back to bed. I’ll come by before sunrise and tell you what we found.”
“Go back to…I’m going to help you! I can search, or stand guard, or…or…”